Author's Note: If you don't care about unnecessary background stuff, feel free to skip to the actual story.
Background: Here is a silly little story from my Notepad that I wrote back in May 2016 while lounging around at home watching The Two Towers and thinking about other ways the ring could mess with Frodo's head.
Sticks and Stones
Frodo was a dreamer. This much he knew well. Most of his days spent in the peaceful lull of the Shire he imagined he was elsewhere: sometimes reliving the tales of his uncle crossing wits with troll and dragon, others crafting stories entirely his own. Part of the reason he agreed to go on this quest is because he had always wanted to be a hero (though looking back at all the terrible things that had occurred since, he often regretted his decision). Sure, his neighbors back at Hobbiton would tell him off for having his head in the clouds instead of down with his body like a sensible person, but he was certain that he was not delusional. He knew for a fact that the voice in his head was completely, undeniably real.
"Now, Mister Frodo, I don't think you ought to be taking that out all the time. At least not looking at it. You should keep your eyes on the road ahead of-"
"Oh yes, 'Mister Frodo'," the far too familiar mocking whisper interrupted, drowning out the background like a rush of blood to the head. "Why don't you look ahead. It is a long, long way to Mordor. It's a path fraught with danger, full of those who wish to kill you, steal from you, ruin you. If you continue, you will be maimed, you will be robbed, you will be ruined. Would it not be easier to give in, to wield the power to annihilate all that oppose you? Or else to hand the Dark Lord what is rightfully his and rule beside him as-"
"Would you just shut up?!" He shouted at the voice, patience worn quite thin from its constant nagging. Suddenly his surroundings were brought back into sharp focus to find himself facing Sam. Sam who, startled by his companion's sudden outburst, was looking towards him like a scolded puppy.
"Mister Frodo? I beg your pardon, I didn't, I never meant to offend, I only, err, Mister Frodo, are you quite alright?"
Frodo sighed and shook his head, swearing he could hear the faintest echo of maniacal laughter from the recesses of his mind.
"Oh Sam," he said, placing a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder before pulling him close for an emotionally charged gaze. "It isn't you. I'm sorry you ever had to think I would yell such things at you," the eye contact continued for another long, drawn out moment. "It's just..." he trailed off, still maintaining a closeness to his beloved and trusted friend.
"Oh, please tell me, Mister Frodo, what is causing you such discomfort, let me help you find relief from this load," Sam pleaded, eyes beginning to sparkle with tears.
"It's-"
"Hah! GAYYYYYYYYY!" the voice interjected.
"It is this blasted ring, it does such terrible things,"
"-Sam and Frodo sitting in a tree,-"
"What's it doing to you?"
"-K-I-S-S-I-N-G-"
"Being a total dick."
Sam only blinked in bewilderment as he tried to imagine what manner of dickery the Ring could be getting into. It was an evil, cursed thing for sure, but it was still a ring.
Within the confines of Frodo's mind, The One Ring laughed.
It was going to be a long journey.
Author's Note: This is not meant to insult anyone's stance on shipping the characters. Frodo/Sam is an incredibly valid ship. I just enjoy the idea of The One Ring being suave and threatening but also acting like a really obnoxious and immature 12 year old whose comments on YouTube consist of insults and stale memes. Gay is not an insult. Being emotional does not make one weak.
Sorry for the tangent, it is just that every time I see someone say Frodo is not a true hero because he is a crybaby I lose an entire minute from my lifespan.